


Fantastic Little Bro

by daemonhart



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Fantasizing, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Masturbation, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemonhart/pseuds/daemonhart
Summary: [Drabble] When the house goes quiet, Papyrus gets the chance to rub one out. He can't help the places his mind wanders while he does so, though.





	Fantastic Little Bro

I settle bare-bones into bed once my brother’s room goes quiet. This is the only time I don’t gotta worry about bein’ interrupted, so every night, I take full advantage of it. I trail my hand down the bodies of my vertebrae, taking the time to scrape my fingertips a bit between each. My sockets close so my mind can run wild - whatever it takes. What’ll it be tonight?

My little brother…the best and most common fantasy. He crawls toward me, eyes wide in curiosity and wonder. It’s almost never sexual at first. My hand is his as it lifts and fans its fingers over my ribs. “Mnnh, wanna give me a massage, bro?” I breathe. Nobody’s there, but hearin’ myself makes the picture clearer. Cute little phalanges trace in each of my intercostal spaces and I can’t resist a quiet moan. He doesn’t know what it does to me. I do, but I let him continue anyway. I picture this warm smile after, as if asking if he’d done well…

“Mm, felt good, little bro…” I murmur. “Maybe you could get my pelvis, too? Sittin’ around all day makes it ache so bad all over…” I imagine his face in a scolding frown; if it hurts, I could try exercise for once! But he doesn’t refuse me. Never does. Hands – both of them, now – reach lower. The palmbones of each trace on either iliac crest before sweeping down the front. I arch my back once I feel those fingers rubbing,  _squeezing_ my pubic bones. He has to know. He  _is_ innocent, but not stupid. I manage to open my eyes partway just long enough to meet his imagined gaze before a flick of fingertips on my symphysis forces them closed again. “Agh, fuck…” There was somethin’ else in the way he was looking at me. A bony thumb and forefinger rolls around the mistreated spot, easing the pain into a growing heat. I can practically hear him tut-tutting me for my language but the way his breath shakes…I don’t think he dislikes it as much as he pretends to.

By now, I struggle to keep myself contained. “B-bro…will you massage one more thing?” He gives a coy giggle, but the slow drag of his thumb over the sensitive piece of cartilage tells me he knows what I’m gonna ask. That familiar twinge of shame shoots through my mind as I conjure my dick, already swollen with magic. The sound he makes is nothing short of  _appreciative,_  like the pleasured groan of a monster eatin’ their favourite food. My face tinges a bit orange. It’s shameful, but the thought of my cute little sibling sizin’ me up and findin’ me good to look at always gets me going. 

The hands come again. One rests its digits around the base of my cock and gives occasional squeezes. The other, though…! Little pointed bones roll my foreskin over the glans and give it a little pinch. “A-ah!” I yelp in surprise, feeling pre leak beneath the skin. When he rolls it back and down, the fluid slicks the head. I feel his breath rushing against it, but his mouth never comes; he never uses anything but his hands. I don’t have the imagination for it. It’s easy to picture my hands as his since we’re both bones, but what would his tongue feel like? Would he find it gross and jus’ do it to satisfy me, or would he love it enough to bury his face down and let his teeth clack against my pelvis? I can smell my own musky scent building the longer I imagine Sans’ hands working my cock with acute knowledge of just how to make me want to come, and I let myself wonder what he smells like. I want…to see him in heat. See him so turned on, he’ll even let his nasty big bro fuck ‘em. I wanna taste him, smell him, touch him, then bury my dick in him over and over ‘til I’ve pumped ‘em so full of my magic that I barely have enough for myself. Knowing his energy, would it be enough? Maybe he’d push me over and ride me until he works through all that lust, no matter how milked dry I am.

His grip tightens as the feelings and thoughts push me toward the edge. “B-Blue, gods…more, more, I’m so fuckin’ close,  _please_ …” I beg. He grins and obliges me. What a good little brother. Both hands pumping and squeezing no matter how I arch and buck. “Oh, fuck  **yes** , just…j-just like that…g-gh! Ah…!” My joints suddenly go rigid as orgasm hits me. The first few shots spurt up to spatter my ribcage and spine with my own pale orange glow before the rest just kinda oozes out down my shaft and over my hands. I picture what it’d be like if his face was near, streaked with sticky threads of semen. Would he hate it? Or maybe he’d gimme that cute giggle and taste it, or even nuzzle it on my face too just to get me back.

While I’m windin’ down, I lazily pull my tissue box from my dresser with magic so I can clean up. This is when the guilt and shame really hit me hard, but it’s been there the whole time. It holds me back. I never come as much or as hard when I’m beating off instead of fuckin’ someone or something. I wad up the tissues and stuff them back into the empty box, then shove it under my bed. I’ll throw it away later. For now…I gotta sleep if I want to keep feelin’ good. If I think any more, all I’ll do is hate myself.

Which I should.


End file.
